


117 Days

by hisboywriter



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:24:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisboywriter/pseuds/hisboywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the months during Billy's depression, Teddy and Tommy bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	117 Days

**-X-**

The 1st day of Billy’s depression was really the 5th day.

 

That was when Billy resigned half of himself to silence where the other days he had managed (bleak) conversation. He sat at the window as he had done the previous four days, knees drawn up, arms looped around them, and he stayed that way, even when Teddy set a plate of food beside the feet.

Today also marked the day when Teddy’s stomach went into a knot, one he didn’t know would stay tangled for another 112 days.

“Have something to eat,” Teddy said, squeezing Billy’s hand. He got one in return before he went to the kitchen. All the while he felt Tommy’s eyes on him from where the speedster sat at the couch, not at all absorbed by the program on the television.

As he plucked the apron off a hanger, he saw the other boy come into the kitchen entryway.

“He’s not just going to sit there all day, is he?” Tommy asked, jerking his thumb in Billy’s direction, though neither could see him from their location. “He was there almost half the day yesterday and the days before that.”

“He just needs some time alone,” Teddy assured, more at himself than Tommy. He tied the strings at his low back, felt the tension there and willed his muscles to relax.

He glanced at the other boy, unsure what to make of the guise on the familiar face. Though it was so similar to his boyfriend’s, Teddy couldn’t always decipher Tommy’s while it was second nature with Billy’s.

 He turned his eyes to the dishes at hand instead. “Just give him some space,” he added.

“I guess,” Tommy said, not sounding convinced at all.

“Anyway,” Teddy went on, the distraction welcoming, “we have stay low for now. Just try to take things slow, remember? Summer break means no school so you can find lots of things to keep your mind busy. Pick up a hobby that isn’t destructive.”

Tommy snorted, taking a step back. “If I spontaneously combust and set this place on fire from boredom, I’m telling the Kaplans it was your fault,” he said. There wasn’t much humor tuning his words.

Teddy managed a half-smile despite that, flicking his eyes over in time to see Tommy leave him.

When Teddy went back to collect Billy’s plate not long after, a third of the food remained untouched.

**-x-**

On the 18th day, Tommy broke a glass.

He had been at the table, the rhythm of his bouncing leg and jittery hand nothing like the cacophony brewing in his mind. Billy had been the focus of his attention because, well, Teddy had suggested he learn to slow down and there was no method more effective than watching to see when Billy would grow roots. It felt like he had just begun ogling his twin, disapproving of how one of the mage’s legs dangled, lifeless, when he must have tapped the glass one newton too much.

Billy didn’t even blink when the glass cried out.

There was nothing in the cup at least, having been downed by Tommy earlier, and it wouldn’t hold any more drinks if the thick crack had anything to say about it.

Taking it slow was as much of a Hell as Tommy expected it to be.

“Hey,” he called to Billy, lifting his glass, “magic this back to normal, will you?”

For an instant, he thought Billy reacted, thought he saw the hands twitch in some kind of protest—perhaps magic use still haunted his twin. Tommy thought it was stupid, had expressed it plenty of times, and now had to stuff down his irritated words or else incur Teddy’s scolding.

Still, talking was better than just waiting. He tried again. “I’m talking to you,” he called again, sing songy. “You don’t want it to go to waste, right? Your parents paid for these things, you know. Show some gratitude.”

Maybe Billy did hear him and determined the weight of his words to be empty. Or maybe not.

Tommy rolled his eyes and made to say more when Teddy stepped in, flushed from a shower, and frowning at the mage before registering the speedster.

“You ready to go grocery shopping with us?” he asked Tommy. “Mr. Kaplan texted saying he’ll be home in five minutes.”

Tommy sighed and shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah. Joy,” he said, not hiding his disdain. This was what he was reduced to—adventures in grocery land. He thrust away from the table, glass in hand, and paused mid-step to watch the shape-shifter approach Billy.

“Billy, we’re going out. Do you want to come with us?” Teddy pressed close, a large hand smoothing down his boyfriend’s arm. “It might do you good to get fresh air.”

It seemed to take an eternity before Billy feebly leaned into the touch and said so low Tommy wasn’t sure he heard right, “Gonna stay here…”

Tommy had to turn away, grimacing in disgust at the display. He only hoped Teddy knew that Billy’s response to the touch was calculated, a way to get everyone off his back faster so he could slip back into whatever comforting misery the dreary horizon offered him. Clearly Teddy’s huge size was used for storing patience, and though Tommy himself had so little of it, that didn’t explain why seeing Billy like that made his throat run dry.

In the end, he threw out the glass.

**-x-**

Day 39 came with a monstrous rainstorm.

Teddy’s breath hitched at a particularly murderous roar of thunder. The window perspired more. Thick glops of rain streaked its body, its shadows dribbling down Billy’s blank stare. He had stopped shaving and only took showers at the behest of his parents or Teddy—and never alone; Teddy always accompanied him.

When a bolt of lightning tore the sky, he saw Billy wince and tilt his head until it bumped against the chilly skin of the window as though offering himself to the storm’s wrath.

Another crack of lightening, and Teddy’s heart fractured with the sky. He couldn’t pull away from watching his boyfriend, though his eyes had drifted once to the Kaplan siblings on the couch with Tommy. No doubt their heads would be turning, sometimes to study the rain, other times to steal a glance at Billy. Maybe their palms and faces were eager to press against the window to gawk at Mother Nature’s tantrum, but their unavoidable verbalization of their wonder would be inappropriate with their older brother there.

“This is stupid,” Tommy said, close to him.

Teddy, silently grateful for the visual distraction, watched the speedster plop down beside him at the dining table. Looking down, he was surprised to find a bowl there; he had forgotten he had been having soup. 

“It’s been hard for him,” Teddy whispered, struggling to look at Tommy as he said those words. It was difficult to look into such a familiar, active face when Billy’s held nothing.  Teddy stopped trying to glimpse at him. “He hasn’t said anything to you, has he?”

“Bullshit,” Tommy hissed, ignoring the question, voice too low for the siblings to hear. It reeked of venom anyway. “This isn’t normal. What about Jacob and Isaac? They just have to stay away from big brooding brother? That’s not right. You have to do something about Billy.”

At that, Teddy went rigid, refusing to narrow or widened his eyes. The burn in his chest flashed to his head, sparking a foreign sensation of anger. Everyone looked at him, their eyes brimming with hope or, in Tommy’s case, demand. They expected him, if no one else, to coax Billy out of his stupor and he knew it.

It wasn’t their fault their stares cast a weight on his shoulders and it only irritated him more that he got angry to begin with.

 As it did each time, the anger dwindled as fast as it came. But this time couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Why don’t  _you_? You’re practically his brother.”

That shut Tommy up for once, a nerve struck. The speedster’s eyes widened, flicked to Billy, then lowered to the ground. Teddy couldn’t tell if Tommy was insulted or not.

Tommy snorted and shook his head. “Forget this,” he muttered, shoving out of his seat.

“Where are you going?”

He watched Tommy yank on his jacket and pocket his phone. “None of your business.”

“Tommy, wait, I didn’t mean—” Teddy’s complaint died into a sigh when the door slammed shut.

The storm and the hum of the television continued, doing nothing to alleviate the tension.

Teddy glanced at the brothers, expecting questions—anything, really. They only stared at him with a haunting copy of Billy’s expression before turning back to the television screen. Even little Isaac, who was a cannonball of inquiries and opinions, remained silent as he wiggled closer to Jacob.

Another glance at Billy. If possible, the mage looked to have sagged deeper against the window, the length of his body trying to melt into it.

“Billy, can I bring you some soup?”

Nothing.

He tried again. “Billy?”

Jacob and Isaac turned and cried in unison, “Billy!”

Billy lifted his head by millimeters, blinked his eyes, and lowered it again. “No,” he said, but it was hard to make out beneath the rain’s drumming.

Teddy exhaled, managed a brave smile for the younger brothers as they faced forward again, and addressed the bowl in front of him. The soup was cold.

Tommy never did bring up the topic again.

**-x-**

On the 52nd day, Mrs. Kaplan introduced Tommy to sewing.

He fought it, naturally, despite her insistence on its calming effects—she seemed too aware of the tension between him and Teddy—while she perused the crafts store. She bought the necessary ammo, Tommy scurrying behind her along the way with his lips pursed and hands in his pockets. Not once did they mention Billy, but he got plenty of insight into her.

Maybe it was the way she looked at him—and Tommy could read plenty of details in one look—that made his shoulders deflate at last. He noted the underlining exhaustion in her gaze, the helplessness she did a commendable job at swatting away when it crept into the wrinkles forming in her face. It was difficult to elude Tommy though, and he said nothing of what he learned about her or the respect she deserved.

So maybe that’s why he sat lengthwise on the couch, following the assigned pattern of multi-colored bird; he was a fast learner. There were a few other animals he could have chosen, a koala or an elephant, for instance. The last thing he wanted was another dull, gray addition to the Kaplan household. The bird would suffice.

And if the Kaplan siblings had shot him a curious look, he shut up their interest with a vicious one of his own.

Billy, of course, didn’t care that Tommy was sewing.

Tommy peered over the couch, took notice of the deteriorating posture. Billy sat upright, but his limbs might as well have been metal poles. Useless. Heavy. Never alive. It was eerie to think that magic had once spun off those lifeless fingertips.

“I’m sewing you a bird. Do you know why?” he asked, resuming his work.

Billy didn’t answer.

“It’s red, blue, and green. Yellow if you include the beak,” Tommy went on, not a bump in his voice. “I thought some color would bring some life back to this place, no thanks to you. Striking contrast and all that, right?”

Again, nothing.

“Sure, I can try to make you a pillow. Maybe a big one to suffocate you with. Not like you need to breathe,” Tommy said, jabbing the needle through. There was something satisfying about the promise sewing held: always something to stab, to thread and stitch together. Things he couldn’t enforce in real life.

He wondered if the Kaplans’ lack of intervention stemmed less from psychology-induced theories and more from utter panic. All of Mrs. Kaplan’s schooling, her training, amounted to little when it was her own son under the microscope. It was hidden, of course, the deep alcove that fear (anger, hopelessness?) made itself inside of them. It reminded Tommy of his own mother, a woman so out of her league upon discovering her only son was a freak.

 Tommy pierced the next spot a little harder. “Maybe I should just sew your eyes shut. Not like you need them, right? Just staring at the damn city like that.”

He knew Billy wasn’t staring at the city at all; Billy was staring at himself, repeating his sins, watching himself suffer under them. Rinse and repeat.

“Why not just stare? It’s not like there’s nothing better to do. Not like there are people who care about you, who love you,” Tommy added, half-growing the words. “Not like you’re in juvie, under a damn scalpel, hooked to machines, electrocuted, or, gee, I don’t know, starving in some third world country.”

“Enough, Tommy!”

The needle bit Tommy.

He grimaced at the injury and blinked himself out of the racing-train-going-off-the-tracks that was his mind. The rant had spewed out from a raw part of Tommy he thought he had sealed over ages ago.  He frowned deeper at the bead of blood, not bothering to lift his head and acknowledge Teddy’s presence. Made it easier to ignore the other’s melancholy.

Whatever further scolding Teddy had planned for him, it didn’t come. Maybe Teddy was too tired to expend his dwindling energy on him. Tommy grit his teeth together, wanting to be anywhere where he wouldn’t see Teddy slip into the snug space behind Billy, the mage shrinking against his size so that they made the picture of a young man cradling a doll that wouldn’t wind up.

But instead of that, Teddy crumbled into a chair, cheek in palm. Daring to look, Tommy scrutinized his expression, didn’t like the muted (but very much there) gentleness underscoring it, and carried on with sewing as though he didn’t feel his stomach flip.

“Sorry.” Though the tired puff of air Teddy let out was to be expected, his apology wasn’t.

Tommy didn’t let it affect him. “For what?”

“I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,” Teddy said. “Really.”

Incredulous, Tommy stared at him again, searching for signs of dishonesty. When he found none, his hackles rose and he fought off the pooling warmth in his gut. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “there’s your answer. He doesn’t talk to me. Some great brother I am, huh?”

“You are, Tommy. You’re a good person.”

Tommy chuckled through his nose.

“I’m serious,” Teddy went on quietly, and why wouldn’t he just shut up and leave the tingles be. “I know it’s hard for you too.”

“Yeah, so hard to avoid going back to old habits. Billy called me a sociopath for good reason,” Tommy said through a snort. It was tempting to revert to less than legal means of entertainment. It was more tempting to shove Teddy’s hypocrisy down his mouth. He had no doubt that Teddy neglected his more distressing emotions in favor of coddling Billy. At this rate, the blonde will break before the next month was up.

“I know you won’t,” Teddy said. “And I don’t believe you’re a sociopath.”

Tommy challenged his gaze. “And what makes you say that?”

 “I trust you,” Teddy said, holding the glower with a soft look of his own.

“You  _trust_  me?” Tommy parroted.

Teddy frowned. “We’re part of a team.”

“ _Were_  part of a team,” Tommy corrected.

“Fine, ‘were’. That doesn’t change my trust.”

Tommy stared at him, weaving through the endless corridors of the labyrinth that was his mind. He settled on a conclusion that had him twist his face into one of perplexity as though he were on foreign territory.

Where another person might have lingered on gaping, Tommy’s mind was back online within seconds. It was a good thing he was a speedster. “You’re as pathetic as he,” he said, though it came out more like a mumble than the growl he had intended.

His tongue had earned him the worst ends of all kind of admonishments. This time, Tommy didn’t wait for it, instead gathering his items and dashing out of there before Teddy could register the strain in his voice.

In the wasteland of his room, he wouldn’t bring himself to acknowledge how the ache in his chest had lifted.

**-x-**

The 77th day was when the splint in Teddy’s heart buckled under the pressure.

Emotions swarmed him, announced. First, as a tingle in his throat at night when everyone but Billy and he were convincing themselves to sleep. Then as picked up the ignored cup of milk and surveyed the plate of snacks, his arms quivered. Where Billy had gone from eating half of his food, to picking it apart, he now forgot its existence altogether.

                                                                                   

Eyes on Billy, Teddy took in the sight of his boyfriend lifeless on its side. Were it not for his head peering out from the provided blanket, he would have resembled a corpse wheeled out of a crime scene. He tried not to think of Tommy’s patronizing words; they continued to haunt him.

“Billy,” he said, gripping the plate and glass harder, “you should really eat something before you sleep.”

He waited for an answer and set the items down in the kitchen when he got none. Upon his return to Billy’s side, his feet rubbing against the carpet was deafening in the night. “Billy,” he murmured. Saying the name had less of an effect with each passing hour.

Something thick in his esophagus barricaded his speech so he pressed his hand on Billy’s arm, expressing his affection in a gentle squeeze. At last, Billy’s eyes dragged away from the window. They stopped at the edge of the window frame, as though believing that was where the world ended.

Teddy swallowed the lump. “It’s time for bed. Come on.”

It was a century before Billy put the pieces of his voice back together. “Want to stay here tonight,” he said, the words coming in slow, tired intervals. “Please.”

Each word made the obstruction in his throat grow bigger, made his eyes burn, and shredded the bandages over his heart. The last word was just cruel.

“Okay,” he forced himself to say. He planted a kiss to Billy’s temple, received no recognition of the act, and peeled away from the scene.

Once he was in the sanctuary of the hallway bathroom, Teddy’s face erupted. Tears showed him no mercy, pouring out like a dam bursting instead of trickling in tendrils down his face. The knob in his throat leapt out of him in a broken gasp that wanted to be a sob, and he clamped his hands over his mouth so Billy couldn’t hear him.

That’s what he told himself because the alternative was too brutal: Billy wouldn’t react even if he did hear his sobs.

He squeezed his eyes shut, saw flashes of Billy flickering behind his burning lids, heard the lost laughter of his boyfriend from where it was buried in an old memory. Peppered into the mix were timeless faces—Nathan, Vision, Cassie—, the moment Eli smiled his goodbye at them, glimpses of when the world seemed to have crashed around them and depended on their shoulders to keep it afloat.

A fiercer tremor rocked his shoulders.

Someone rapped against the door, stealing all sounds and movement from Teddy. “Teddy? That you in there? Come on, I gotta take a leak.”

Teddy grappled with himself, couldn’t find all the pieces of his wit and had to make do with the scraps. A few, broken rasps for breaths and a clearing of his throat patched them together. He ran the sink just in case.

The knocks came harder, insistent. “Teddy,  _come on_.”

“Give me a minute,” he called out, almost wincing at the betraying tone. He hoped the sputtering water concealed most of it.

He hurried to wipe his face of the evidence and then took a moment to straighten himself as he dried his hands. When he opened the door, Tommy was waiting, unsteady on his heels like he really did have to go.

His jitteriness ceased for an instant as he met Teddy’s gaze, his head tilting in that way that told you he was processing the details on your body faster than you can realize it.

“Teddy?” Tommy made to say more but Teddy was already brushing by him, clearing his throat again.

“Going to sleep in the living room tonight with Billy,” Teddy grunted out, making for their room. Inside, he gathered a blanket and pillow, and wiped his eyes in warning, lest they think what happened in the bathroom was an invitation for more.

He made himself a spot on the couch and collapsed into it, dragging the blanket over his head and straining for any sound. The toilet flushed in the distance, low and muffled, but Tommy’s light footsteps never came his way. That didn’t stop Teddy’s mind from racing.

After assuring himself that Tommy wasn’t coming, Teddy lowered the blanket. Billy’s breathing was beyond his reach so he kept busy by getting up more than once to ensure the mage was alive. Eventually, the trips turned to peeks over the couch, and then stopped altogether when exhaustion brought him sleep.

When he did wake up, he didn’t know what to make of the sight of a sleeping Tommy crammed into one of the chairs.

**-x-**

83 days in, there was a body where Billy use to be.

As Billy’s posture wilted over the weeks, months, so did his capacity to orchestrate anything that didn’t involve sitting and staring out the window. Tommy figured it wasn’t long before he even forgot how to breathe and then, his cardio vascular system would stop exerting the effort altogether.

It was also 6 days since Tommy learned Teddy had been crying in the bathroom. Tommy didn’t mention it, had gone as far to dismiss why he had been sleeping in the living room that same night, and had no plans to ever mention either again to anyone.

Sentiment was not his area, tingles and aches in his own chest and stomach included, and Hell if they weren’t going away.

They swelled up again when Teddy returned with Billy from the bathroom—Tommy would gamble that the shape-shifter even held Billy’s business when the mage was coaxed to take a piss. Billy was gravitating back toward the window, Teddy shuffling in tow. He caught Tommy’s eye and they both looked away at the same time.

Of course Teddy was the first to make a peace offering (again); the blonde sat on the couch, keeping an amiable distance between their legs. Tommy thought to ask if Billy had a nice piss because God knew he needed something to brighten his day. He bit down on his tongue.

Of all the things he expected Teddy to say, he didn’t expect what really came out.

“What are you sewing?”

So Teddy was testing to see if he’d bring up the bathroom incident. Too bad, given that Tommy was a great fibber and could act like the whole incident never happened. But whether it was more for his sake than Teddy’s, who knew.

Without a hiccup in his craft, Tommy replied, “An apple tree.”

Silence. A car wailed somewhere in the city below.

“It looks good,” Teddy said, voice lower and through an exhale.

Tommy peered at him. It seemed Teddy’s shape-shifting abilities didn’t extend to the inside, where the blonde could have used it most. The ache within Tommy uncoiled its fingers, reaching into his own digits and messing up his work.

Finally he stopped trying to act composed while his sewing, and sank deeper into the couch. Hell, Hell, Hell.

“I’m going to get pizza,” he said suddenly, not facing the other boy. “Going to pick it up. Delivery is expensive.” It was a half-lie. Mr. Kaplan had left more than enough.

When he stood up, he met Teddy’s curious (and not grave) expression. It was refreshing if nothing else.

“So?” Tommy pressed, gesturing a hand for Teddy to respond. “Are we taking it slow or not?”

Those were the magic words. Teddy shut his eyes, opened them and only a fraction of his burden returned to his face. “Y-Yeah,” he licked his lips, “sure. What, er, kind of pizza?”

“Spicy.” Tommy set down his items, keeping his back to Teddy.

“Oh…”

Tommy lifted his head. “What?”

“It’s nothing.” Teddy made a half-hearted attempt to shrug. The other half was too warped by Billy. “I just don’t really like spicy pizza as much.”

“You’re crazy. Spicy pizza is the best,” Tommy said, making a face at any other option. “What would  _you_  get then?”

“I like pineapple,” Teddy replied, frowning a little as though he had forgotten he liked things at all.

“I didn’t know you liked pineapple. Huh. Suits you.”

“Really? You usually pick up on that stuff,” Teddy said. “I didn’t know you liked spicy pizza.”

They shared a quiet stretch of time, their lips quirking to suggest the smile that wanted to come out, but wouldn’t.

“I also like the color yellow,” Tommy said, zipping his eyes to Billy. As he figured, the mage didn’t recognize their conversation. “And I can’t store too much information in my head, you know.”

“Oh, right,” Teddy murmured, following his gaze. The crinkles came back to his face. “Is it hard?” he asked, sounding like it took more effort than necessary to press the topic.

 “I guess,” he answered. “Could never focus on classes. I rarely showed my work. It all happens in my brain too fast to bother writing down but teachers don’t care just about the answer. Stupid.”

It wasn’t a topic he dove into often and the times he did had been under a doctor with a mask holding a terrible instrument of science. He almost shuddered.

“Tommy?”

“Huh?” Tommy glanced over again, was surprised that Teddy’s focus was on him and not his twin. “What? What is it?”

Teddy frowned and with that gesture, let go of what he originally intended to say. “Nothing,” he said softly. “Just…Sorry. Must have been tough.” A pause. “I like yellow too.”

The apology reached in and turned a light inside of Tommy. Unexpected, but he couldn’t call it unpleasant. He wouldn’t call it anything actually. Instead, he inhaled a greedy supply of air.

“It’s…fine,” he said, judgmental of how tentative it came out. It wasn’t what he had planned to say either. He looked away from Teddy as a means to stop mulling it over.

But Teddy was already up and treading over to Billy.

“We’re going out Billy,” he heard Teddy say. “Do you want to come? It’ll be a nice walk.”

Tommy huffed, obscuring the sound of Billy’s inevitable protest. Stomach feeling a little lighter, he suited up for the chilly night fast before the sensation vanished, opting for a light jacket. He could do with a cold bite of air. Upon their leaving, Teddy graced him with what could only be a grateful look.

After that night, he and Teddy found a bi-weekly excuse to lure each other out.

**-x-**

Day 117: Teddy approached Tommy.

Enough was enough.

Although Teddy had been in Tommy’s company as of late—comfortable one, at that—his heart clamored on his way to the kitchen. There, he found Tommy churning up a dinner-in-a-packet. The serving size was more than what the speedster normally ate and Teddy’s lips tilted at the implications.

“I dropped off Isaac at his sleepover,” he announced.

Tommy tugged out a wooden spoon. “So, just as two tonight then. Sorry, I meant three if you count the mannequin by the window,” he said, punctuating the last bit with an eye roll.

Teddy resisted the urge to wince. Billy was exactly the topic at hand and Tommy had presented an easy segue way, yet he found himself unable to disclose his intentions, to confess he truly had no clue what to do and might be in the need of guidance from the only other person he could get it from.

 Instead, his words ran off without permission in an entirely different direction.

“It’s okay to feel lost or…scared, you know,” he said. The look Tommy shot him made him wish he could rewind and replay that scene differently.

“What? Why would I be lost or scared?” asked Tommy.

That question was more difficult to answer. But Teddy was already stepping into the shallow harbors of the conversation, so he crossed his arms and dipped his side into the doorway’s frame as if he wasn’t nervous.

“I know I am,” he admitted.

It did something because Tommy turned his head in time for Teddy to see one brow arch up. As it usually was, Teddy struggled to dissect the expression, and just when he was halfway through figuring it out, Tommy looked back at the stove.

Teddy waited and wondered if he’d never get a response.

As the contents in the pot gurgled, Tommy finally said, “Remember when I moved in and I asked if I could paint the walls of our room?”

“Um, yeah.” Teddy practically heard his brain’s gears grinding as he strove to make a connection. “They use to be white.”

“They were  _very_  white,” Tommy corrected. “I hated it. Juvie was full of white walls.”

Teddy untangled his arms. “Oh…”

“Don’t. I don’t want your pity. You don’t need to say anything to that.”

Teddy didn’t think he needd to. He nodded anyway and studied Tommy under new light, realizing what the admission signified. Leave it to a speedster to give you the roundabout. The small beginnings of a smile came easier than it had in months for Teddy.

He settled back against the frame. “It’s about Billy,” he went on, cautious. Things hadn’t developed well the last time that topic arose.

Tommy’s reaction said as much: a pause in his stirring. Then he tapped the spoon against the pot’s lip, the resounding clank doing a poor job to drown out his deep inhale. “I thought as much. What about him?” he asked, stirring again.

“He won’t respond,” Teddy started, brows knitted, and suddenly wishing he had compiled his speech into notes. All of the practices phrases and choice words were abandoning him with each stir Tommy made.

But bless Tommy for being keen and light on his toes (literally and figuratively). He caught on quick if his answer said anything.

“I doubt the apocalypse could get him to snap out of it,” the speedster replied. He spared Teddy a glance. “If there is anything or anyone that can pull him out of it, it’s you.”

The familiar weight sank its nails into Teddy’s shoulders. He shut his eyes, rode out a deep breath, and peeled back his eyelids only when he couldn’t articulate it any other way: “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, you do. You’re just too nice.”

“I’m really not that nice…”

Tommy waggled the spoon at him. “In an indecent time, decent people take the role of really nice ones.” He sighed and shook his head. “Listen, you’ve tried your way. You were supportive. Patient, too. Just because you go about it another way doesn’t mean you,” he waved the air as if would grant him the proper vocabulary, “failed. Just don’t lie like everyone else and say it’ll be okay. Be honest, right? That’s what you always tell me to do, even if I don’t actually do it,” he aimed the spoon again, “and don’t joke about how I never listen.”

Teddy allowed a moment to digest the information, corners of his mouth turning up more. “You’re kind of profound, aren’t you?” he said, eyebrows untangling.

There was a huff but even Teddy spotted the slight rush of pink on the other’s face when Tommy turned away. “Don’t mock me. I’d say threaten to break up with him, but you wouldn’t do that, so whatever. Go. I’m tired of your face. You’re ruining my dinner. Go ask him to marry you for all I care,” he grumbled.

“I wasn’t mocking,” Teddy said through a chuckle. Though it had been a small sound, it rekindled a surge of confidence he had misplaced long ago.

He approached the other boy and administered a quick squeeze to his shoulder before it could be rejected. “Thanks, Tommy. You really are a good brother.”

As he peeled away, Tommy inclined his head. “Huh? Thanks for what?”

“Everything.”

“I was joking about that last part, you know,” Tommy called after him.

“I know,” Teddy said back, sharing a genuine smile. “But I’m not.”

For an instant, he thought he saw Tommy return it.

It wasn’t until later that night, shoulders drawn back, that he entered the dark room and flicked on the lights.

**-x-**

Billy came back after 117 days.

Tommy knew it in how Teddy’s smile returned with renowned vigor. If a beam on someone’s face took up electricity, Teddy’s would have wiped out an entire string of buildings of power.

“Bad news I take it,” Tommy teased, but clung harder to the jacket he was just shrugging on for a late night run.

The responding laugh tickled the speedster’s lips, encouraging a smirk. That sound alone returned their room to its familiar, homely state. It had been far too long without Teddy’s laugh.

“Yes, very,” Teddy replied, coming in. He even stepped with renewed purpose.

Tommy basked in the elated expression, despite his wariness, feeling the unease shedding off him. He didn’t say anything, didn’t think it was necessary just yet, until he saw the tenderness in Teddy’s body language. “You’re not going to hug me are you? Just because we had a few walks and talks that didn’t involve you scolding me, doesn’t mean—“

“Suit up,” Teddy told him, smile blossoming into a grin. “We’re wanted at Avengers HQ.”

“The Avengers want us?” Tommy nearly ruptured out of his skin. “Us?  _We_? As in—“

“Better hurry up. We’re heading out after Billy shaves.” The delight kept growing, and it was soon going to split Teddy’s face in two, permanently.

The weight in Tommy’s chest, gut, and mind vanished as though Teddy himself had heaved the boulder that had been pinning Tommy down the last few months. It made it easier to breathe and even easier to let out a skeptical burst of air that didn’t quite make it into a laugh.

“I’ll be ready in a flash,” Tommy said, leaping to his feet.

“See you soon, Speed.” Teddy nodded and, before he left, lingered at the doorframe. “Ah, um, maybe a movie tomorrow?”

 “You pick stupid movies,” Tommy replied. “But…Maybe.  _If_  you don’t lag behind. I’m not waiting for either of you.” Tommy’s illuminated smile might have outshined Teddy’s right then and there.

It was day 177 and Tommy could stop counting.

**-X-**


End file.
